


The Sweater

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: DTIYS, Holiday Sweaters, Jumpers, M/M, Silly, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: My first ever DTIYS!Invited to an ugly sweater party, Aziraphale needs a bit of coaxing to get out of his chair.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	The Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Moosie Ugly Sweater DTIYS! 🥳
> 
> 1\. Read on  
> 2\. Get Creative!  
> 3\. Tag #moosieDTIYS  
> 4\. Have fun with it!
> 
> Full rules posted on my IG page. If you’d call them rules... 🤔
> 
> There is also a little call back to “Count On Me” in here if you’ve read it. 😆
> 
> Enjoy!!

It was a rare occurrence that Aziraphale would stray from his button down shirt and waistcoat. His coat had become a staple of his wardrobe after nearly one hundred years. It was only switched out for a soft cardigan when he was planning on staying in the shop. That tended to be quite often as of late. At the present time, Aziraphale found himself leaning back in his chair, gently flipping through pages of a novel. It was peaceful, and quiet. 

That was until Crowley sauntered in.

Aziraphale slipped his glasses off and onto his desk, turning his chair and ready to entertain. Crowley, however, was swiftly standing before him, holding up some otherworldly creation. Aziraphale assumed it was for him. Not just to wrinkle his nose at, but to actually  _ wear _ . On his  _ body _ . The mere thought was blasphemous to both his closet and his coat.

“No!  _ Absolutely  _ not.” His eyes grazed over the sweater presented before him, disgust spreading over his face. To say the sweater was atrocious was being kind. For Aziraphale to find a proper word to describe it would be nearly impossible. There wasn't a word in any of the books he owned that could summarize his feelings about it.

“C’mon, Angel.” Crowley stuck his bottom lip out playfully, “It’s just a little party with those humans. They said we had to wear something like this. Believe me, it’s not a fashion statement.”

“Crowley, this is ridiculous!” Aziraphale fretted, “It’s… This can’t... I don’t even think I’d give this to  _ Gabriel! _ ”

“I would.” Crowley instantly responded with a grin.

“Crowley!”

“It’s an ugly sweater themed party, Angel, and it’s  _ tonight _ . No sweater, no admittance. Kinda would ruin the whole vibe they’re going for.” Crowley pushed the sweater forward, as if it would help his plight. 

“I’d rather stay home.” Aziraphale turned back toward his desk and slipped his glasses on. Crowley sighed. He was going to have to lay it on extra thick to get the fussy Angel out of the shop.

“I told them you wouldn’t want to go... They even went out of their way to pick up the cases of Cabernet I had stashed away.  _ Real kind _ of them.  _ Good deeds _ and all. Too bad we-“

“Cabernet, you say?”

“Mm, nothing expensive. Just something to get the job done.” Crowley winked.

Aziraphale considered this. They hadn’t drank together like that since before the world didn’t end. Even after that cool October day, they kept it social with a glass of champagne at the Ritz. One day months after, they had split more than a few bottles between them. It had led to unexpected hand holding and gentle kissing. It was nice, to say the least. But now, Crowley wanted to go to this party and wear the most horrid clothing imaginable, while drinking wine that was dated within the last two years, with humans they hardly knew?

“Fine.” Aziraphale placed his glasses down again and slowly turned his chair. He had an air of superiority, almost like a villain making a deal in an old James Bond movie. He had the upper hand. if Crowley wanted this outing to happen, they were going to do things his way.

“Fine? What’s fine?” Crowley dropped the sweater into the bag, looking concerned at that one word that was such heavy ammunition.

“We’ll go to your sweater party and drink your wine. On one condition…”

“What’s that?”

“I get to recount the time you got stuck in the oil lamp.”

Crowley groaned and looked up to the ceiling, defeated.

“It was one time and it wasn’t even that funny!”

“Oh, I think after a few bottles of wine it will be very amusing. ‘Anathema, dear? Have I told you about the time that Crowley, the great serpent of Eden was so intoxicated he couldn’t get out of an oil lamp? So he convinced everyone he was a genie!’ You really overdid it with the miracles, Crowley. Three per human just to get someone to wish you free? I dare say you quickly inspired an entire genre of art and film!”

“You could have gotten me out!”

“Mm… If I recall I had quite a bit of arak myself, and was having a rather amusing time laughing at you. It was rather lovely.” Aziraphale gave a wiggle, knowing that he’d won this war.

“You’re more of a bastard than I had previously thought…” Crowley grumbled, his cheeks warm, “Fine! You tell your stories, Angel. Just… Wear the damn sweater. Maybe I’ll pass out before story time.”

Crowley held out the sweater and looked away, red in the face. Aziraphale gladly took it and beamed, chalking this up as another potentially enjoyable evening of embarrassing tales to tell about how Crowley had unintentionally inspired a novel on one of his shelves.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on IG @mrsmoosie35! ❤️


End file.
